


How Did I Get Here?

by Emma_with_her_head_in_the_clouds



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Damian Wayne is Robin, Gen, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swearing, Tim Drake is Red Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_with_her_head_in_the_clouds/pseuds/Emma_with_her_head_in_the_clouds
Summary: Jason awakens to find himself in a warehouse of dead bodies. Did he kill them? He doesn't know, he can't remember.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is probably going to be a 3-4 chapter long fic. I thought I'd write a Jason-centric one, since he seemed to end up stealing the show in two of the supposedly Tim-centric fics I've written. I've been writing it in my head scene by scene, but I've now finally come up with a rough idea for the ending, so thought I'd post the first chapter now I roughly know where I'm going with it. The rest of the Batfam (or most of them at least) will be making appearances in subsequent chapters).

The first thing Jason was aware of was that his head was killing. The second was that the ground felt very hard underneath his body (which was also aching, so that was a third thing, though not as bad as his head, which was probably why that had been the first thing he'd noticed).

It was the second thing which made Jason lie still. He wasn't unused to pain. He wasn't unused to finding himself lying on the ground either, but it did generally indicate that he wasn't in his bed. So that meant he'd likely not woken up from sleep, rather come round from being unconscious.

It was an instinct that had been honed into him, that, when finding oneself waking from unconsciousness, you find out as much information about your situation as you can, before you make any potential enemies in the vicinity aware of your returned alertness.

What could he feel? Well, a) the headache (which totally sucked, and was likely linked to the cause of his parting from consciousness in the first place), b) he was lying on the ground (it felt cold and smooth and hard, so was likely concrete or something similar), c) his body ached (so he'd likely been in a fight, if the head injury didn't already tell him that. Nothing felt broken or bleeding though; probably just bruised. That was good. He might need to fight soon), d) his limbs were unrestrained (which increased the chances that he'd just gone down in a fight, rather than having been taken captive) and e) his helmet was gone. That last point was a problem. Was his identity at risk? (Not that he had much of an identity nowadays anyway, considering the fact he was legally dead). He twitched his face as much as he dared, whilst still feinting unconsciousness. He could feel the pull of adhesive against his face. Good. So his domino was still in place.

Next he considered what he could hear. That was a quick one; next to nothing. What sounded like a road in the distance, but nothing nearby. No movement. _Interesting._

Where was he, and how had he got there? Jason racked his brain, and came up blank. Everything seemed fuzzy. He couldn't even narrow down the last thing he could remember. Bits and pieces of an ordinary week (for him) that felt recent. But he couldn't say which were today, or which were yesterday. Or the day before. He wasn't even sure which day today was. He certainly didn't have any memories of going out as Red Hood, then ending blankly, fitting with him waking up here.

The memory loss he could probably put down to the head injury (meaning it was likely worse than he'd first assumed), but he didn't like it.

Having established as much as he could whilst faking unconsciousness, Jason opened his eyes (readying himself to jump into action if necessary). He found himself looking sideways at what looked like yet another abandoned warehouse. Luckily it was only dimly lit, so the light didn't worsen the pounding in his head. He could see bodies lying on the floor, a few metre away from him. He wasn't alone.

He sat himself up (having to brace himself with his hands when his vision spun). None of the bodies so much as flinched. He looked around. More seemingly unconscious (or dead?) bodies littered the warehouse, dotted around. By some, he could make out pools of blood. Quite large pools of blood. Those ones were likely dead then.

He managed to make his way to his feet and start staggering around the warehouse. He began with a quick sweep, to check none of the bodies were about to start causing him trouble. But they all looked either dead, or injured enough at least, that if they weren't, he could easily take them in a fight, injured as he was. He followed that with a more detailed survey. There were 17 bodies in all, all male (all looking like they might be low-level thugs). And all dead. Mostly by gun shot wounds.

_'Did I do this?'_ Jason asked himself. He'd been generally not killing criminals recently (sticking to maiming), to save the agro from Bruce more than anything. He knew he could easily have killed all these men, but would he have? He'd have needed a good reason.

His guns were gone, Jason realised. Even the spare he kept under his leather jacket. The significance of that, he wasn't sure.

He took a closer look at the bodies. From what he could see, without digging bullets out from corpses (because that was gross, and Jason didn't much fancy doing that), they'd been shot with a similar calibre bullet to those he usually used. So it might have been him. Some of them weren't great shots though. A few of the bodies had clearly crawled around for a while before they succumbed to their injuries. Jason normally either went for a straight kill, or an intentionally drawn-out suffering. But not just a lousy shot. Maybe this wasn't him. Or maybe he'd just been busy taking down a whole warehouse of men, and had let his standards slip.

Speaking of warehouse, where was he? Aside from all the corpses, the place was totally empty. No signs of any criminal enterprise. Sure, it could have been cleaned out (maybe by whoever killed the men, if he didn't), but it didn't look like anything had been here in a long time. And why would they leave him alive?

Jason rubbed his aching skull. Maybe he was in a bit over his head? He didn't like dealing with the damn bats, but he also wasn't feeling sorting out this mess by himself. Maybe he could just drop a line to Oracle, high-tail it out of there and get some sleep, and leave it for someone else to deal with. Well, except that wouldn't work. If daddy-bats caught wind of Jason being found in a warehouse of dead men he might have killed, then he wouldn't let Jason here the end of it. No, maybe he should just abandon the place, go home, and pretend he was never there. Sure, it was shoddy vigilante work, but right now, considering the drum pounding away in his head, he couldn't really give a shit.

His hand brushed against his ear, and he realised his comm was missing. Well, that solved that argument. He couldn't contact anyone anyway.

He stumbled out of the warehouse and looked around. Where was he? Eventually he managed to catch sight of some skyscrapers in the distance, and was able to extrapolate his location. It was a good mile to his nearest safehouse. _Great._ He didn't have his grapple gun (that was missing along with his regular guns), so walking it was (not that he probably should be grappling with this concussion anyway). He'd only gone a few steps when he stopped. It felt like there was something in his right boot, and he wasn't walking all that way with gravel or whatever in his boot. He took it off and shook it.

It wasn't gravel. It was his motorbike key.

_What are the chances of me being able to find my bike? (And being able to ride it home in this state without crashing?)_ Eh, that sounded more appealing than walking, so he started looking around, and sure enough, he found it parked up round the back of the building. Things were looking up.

He managed to make it back to his safehouse without crashing. He shucked off his gear and climbed straight into bed. _Isn't there some rule about not sleeping whilst concussed? Meh._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a short chapter this time, but some more of the Batfam make an appearance.

Jason felt decidedly less shit when he woke up later that afternoon. The headache was still there, but dulled somewhat. His missing memories hadn't returned though; he still had no idea what had gone down in the warehouse or why he'd been there. _That's... not great._

Jason decided to go with the mature and totally-not-going-to-backfire plan of ignoring it. Hopefully the memories would come back. And if not, hopefully it wouldn't matter.

He set out again that night with a new helmet on (good job he kept a stock of them), ready for another night of taking down scumbags and protecting his city. He probably wasn't quite at his A-game, but he was still badass.

It was only around an hour into the night, when he was stood on a roof surveilling two shady-looking guys, that he heard the sound of grapple lines, and two annoyances (AKA Robin and Red Robin, AKA his little "brothers") joined him on his roof.

"Hood. Still being a disappointment I see."

"Robin. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Tt."

"What are you two doing here anyway? Don't tell me it's because B's not had a go at me for a couple of weeks, so he's sent you on his behalf?"

That was when Jason suddenly found himself lying on the roof, with a kid brandishing a katana kneeling on top of him. His vision nearly whited out for a second, as his head bashed against the inside of his helmet (that didn't do his concussion any favours; though the kid was probably lucky he already had one, otherwise Jason might already have unloaded one of his guns into him, rather than fumbling at his holster).

"What the fuck, Demon!?"

"WHO ARE YOU!?"

"What!? You know who I am?" Jason replied, confused. _What's got into the kid? Does he have memory loss too?_

"If you were really Todd, you'd know he picked a fight again with father yesterday?"

"Huh, did I?" Jason wracked his brain. "Nope, no recollection of that."

"Are you being facetious?"

"No, I honestly can't remember. What did we fight about? The usual?"

"You really don't remember that?" Red Robin asked, finally joining the conversation, after just standing there like a weirdo.

"No. Got myself a bit of a concussion. So my head really appreciated being slammed against this roof. Thanks for that, Demon."

"Tt. You should have been able to dodge me," the Demon complained, finally climbing off Jason, allowing him to sit up.

"Have you seen anybody about your concussion?" Replacement started asking, "Wait, why am I asking? No, of course you haven't."

"Like you're one to talk."

"Yes, we all know Drake's an incompetent fool, who can barely keep himself alive," Robin snarled, "But I wouldn't have thought you'd want to risk it. You barely have a brain cell to spare, after all."

"I'm fine. And if you've got nothing important to say, then I'll be off. I've got better things to do than sit around all day being insulted and assaulted by you two."

With that, Jason picked himself up and swung away. The two men he'd been tailing were long gone. _They better not have been up to anything, otherwise I'm going to be pissed._


	3. Chapter 3

Jason managed a whole two hours of patrol before the next Bat-annoyance turned up to interfere. And it was not just any Bat. No, it was the original, the unyielding, Daddy-Bat himself.

"Great. Have you come to give me another lecture because you've heard I've forgotten yesterdays? Let me save you the trouble. _'You shouldn't kill people Jason.' 'Stop carrying guns Jason.' 'You should be more like your brothers Jason.'_ There, has that covered everything?"

"I haven't come to argue. I came because I'm worried."

"Yeah, worried that I'm harming your precious city. I think we've already established that."

"No, worried about you. About the fact you had a head injury but don't seem to have sought any kind of medical attention. That you didn't call us for back-up when you were in trouble."

"I'm fine."

"You still should have called us."

"Well, if you must know, I couldn't. Because actually, I'd lost my helmet and my comm. But don't worry, I've got new ones today, so I'll _totally_ call you. Now, I've got to be going. Things to do, crimes to stop, criminals to shoot..."

"Stop!" Batman shouted, grabbing hold of Jason's shoulder as he tried to turn away.

"Get. Off. Me."

"What happened to your helmet and comm?"

"I don't know. _Amnesia,_ " Jason commented, pointing to his head, and raising his eyebrows (though the later would go to waste, considering he was wearing his helmet). "I presume my helmet got smashed by whatever hit me in the head, so I dumped it, and the comm ended up getting lost in the process."

"Oracle," Bruce spoke into his own comm. "Can you track Hood's comm and helmet from last night?"

"The signal for both was lost at 1:47am. Both last detected at a warehouse by the docks," Oracle's computer modulated voice spoke into Jason's ear (clearly she had patched Jason into the conversation too). He could hear the sound of keyboard keys, typing away. "A warehouse where the GCPD found 17 bodies this morning."

Batman turned to glare at Red Hood.

"Did you do that!?"

"What part of memory loss are you not getting? I. Don't. Know. I woke up there and they were already dead."

"13 are reported to have died of gunshot wounds and four from blunt-force trauma," Oracle interjected.

"And a fair few of them from poorly aimed gunshot wounds. What of it?"

"Why didn't you call us?" Bruce asked.

"Erm, did _you_ get a head injury? We've been through this."

"When you got home. Why didn't you call us when you got home? We could have gone over the scene before the GCPD got there, and figured out what happened."

"Oh yes, give you an opportunity to frame me for murders, whether or not I actually committed them, and a reason to throw me into Arkham."

"I'm not going to throw you in Arkham."

"And I'd like to believe that."

With that, Jason fired off his grapple, and shot away before Bruce had chance to say anything else. Jason was not having a good couple of days. And it was about to get worse...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I'm going with short chapter, so we're probably looking at more like six in total.

Jason was fresh from taking down a trio of attempted muggers, when he heard someone land in the alleyway behind him. At first he thought be yet another member of his family, making their landing audible in an attempt at pacification. But when he turned around, it wasn't. In fact, it was... him?

"What the fuck!?" Jason muttered, staring down the figure stood in front of him in a familiar red helmet. As he stared, he realised it wasn't him (you could have argued that should have been a given, but considering the amount of sci-fi bullshit that had gone down over the years, Jason wouldn't rule it out); the person stood in front of him was a bit shorter and less well built, and although the leather jacket looked similar, it clearly wasn't the same as his. The helmet though, that looked right. "Who the fuck are you?"

"It's me," a modulated voice spoke from the helmet. "I came to speak with you again, see if you've reconsidered."

"Yeah, no, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about. But this," [Jason gestured at his copycat's get-up], "This I'm not okay with. Whatever you want, fuck off, and get your own look."

"Do not pretend you don't remember me."

"I don't. Did we meet yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Then that's why. I don't remember much of yesterday. I'm sure it was a fascinating meeting, but what I said still stands. I'm the only Red Hood around here."

"You must remember me! I showed you what I can do! I taught those men in that warehouse a lesson! Well, not them, because they're dead. But other criminals. Like you used to do. Before you lost your edge. That's why I want to help you find it again."

"Oh, hey, Oracle," Jason said into his comm, "found the guy who did kill all those men. Turns out it wasn't me!" No reply. "Oracle?"

"You won't get through. I'm blocking your comms."

"Why?"

"So they can't interfere. It's since you've started hanging out with those damn Bats that you've forgotten who you are! But I'm going to remind you."

"Yeah, I'm going to have to pass."

"No! You can't reject me!" _Okay, so this guy was clearly insane..._

"Yes, I can."

Jason saw the metal rod come flying towards him and ducked underneath it. He hit his opponent with a punch to the kidney, before narrowly missing a return blow of the rod. The two engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Jason was clearly the better fighter (though his opponent was no slouch), but he didn't have a weapon. Both times he'd managed to draw his gun, he'd had it whacked from his hand before he'd had chance to use it. To be honest, he wasn't on his best form. He still had the faint headache of his concussion, the reduction in coordination that came with it, and he was favouring his left leg as he'd landed badly on his right earlier in the night.

At one point during the fight, his opponent spun round, and Jason realised the back of his helmet was smashed in. In fact, it was highly likely the reason the helmet looked so much like his own was because it was one of his; namely the one from last night. The damage to it matched the bump on the back of his head anyway, and from what the psycho had been saying, he'd been there last night.

Jason got distracted thinking about that, and let his guard down for a millisecond. That was all it took. A well-placed kick to his left leg sent him sprawling, leaving his back open for him to be hit around the back of the head with the metal rod. Stars erupted in his vision once more. Two more hits quickly followed, and darkness took over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wasn't certain about this chapter. I needed Jason to get defeated for the plot, but didn't want him to go down too easily (I'm blaming the concussion for it).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is probably the penultimate chapter, with one more to follow to wrap it up.  
> Let me know what you think (I'm not entirely happy with this chapter- I think maybe I've underdeveloped my villain?)  
> Also, just a warning, there's a lot more swearing this chapter. Jason really gets his potty mouth out.

Again, the first things Jason noticed was that his head was killing. Really killing. Everything felt... _blurry? No, that's not the word?_ He'd not opened his eyes yet, so how could things be blurry? But corralling his thoughts was like swimming through pea soup. _Why would I be swimming in soup?_

Something deep in his gut said he wasn't in his bed, and for some reason, that meant he had to stay still. _Am I in my bed?_ No, I'm sat up. _Chair_ , his brain helpfully added. He fidgeted slightly, confirming the position of his limbs (and that they were all attached). He couldn't really move them; he was... _tied_... to the chair.

He sat there for a few minutes, allowing his brain to sort it's shit out a bit. _Okay, so I'm tied to a chair, and clearly have a head injury. What do I know?_

He'd already covered most of "what can I feel?"; headache, chair, ropes tying him to the chair.

_What can I hear?_ Not a right lot.

_Where am I, and how did I get here?_ He thought back. This all felt very familiar. He'd done this recently. _Yesterday?_ He'd woken up in a warehouse. Filled with bodies. With amnesia. Then he'd gone home. Then gone out. Been accosted by the Replacement and the Demon Brat. Then been accosted by _urgh,_ Bruce. Then...?

_The guy. The crazy dude in my helmet!_

_Great._ So it seemed Jason had lost a fight to a stalker nutcase. And now was potentially his prisoner.

"I know you're awake." _Speaking of stalker nutcase._ Jason lay still and ignored him. Until he found himself being slapped around the face.

"Fuck you," he snarled back at him. He hated seeing the man in _Jason's_ fucking helmet.

"I'm trying to help you. You should be more appreciative."

"And how are you helping me, exactly?"

"I'm helping you remember who you was. Who you should be. I'm helping you get your edge back."

"Thanks for the offer, but my edge is fine."

"NO IT'S NOT! You've gone soft! You started hanging with the Bats, and they've made you soft!"

"I don't hang with the Bats."

"You do! I've seen you."

"They turn up to lecture me occasionally..."

"And you listen! You've stopped killing for them! You've started letting the scum get away with their crimes!"

"I don't let them get away..."

"You do!"

During the conversation, Jason was working at trying to get his bindings undone. _Damn these are some good knots! Was this guy a Boy Scout or something?_

"I'm going to help you. I tried to show you yesterday what I can do, what you could do again. I hadn't anticipated you forgetting my lesson, so I guess I'll have to plan you another..."

"I'll save you the bother kid. I'm not interested in your lessons. I do what I want, and no one tells me otherwise. Not the cops. Not the Bats. And not you."

"I was hoping to persuade you. We could have made a beautiful team. But if you won't join me, I'll have to go for plan B. Kill you and take your place. I have the hood now after all." He gestured to the stolen helmet. "It needs a bit of repair work at the back, but I've got a spare from today now too. I'm sure between the pair, I can fix one up.

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

"No you won't. Because a) you've gone soft, and b) you'll be too dead." _That won't necessarily stop me..._ "Now, which gun would you like to be shot with?" he asked, pulling two guns out of his thigh holsters. Two of Jason's guns.

"Fuck. You."

"Both it is." He pointed both towards Jason's face. Jason stared steely faced back towards him. He wasn't going to do this bastard the honour of looking scared of him.

Just as the fingers started to twitch on the triggers, two shiny objects flew out of nowhere and hit them, causing the guns to fall from the guy's hands. Stalker let out a cry of surprise, looking down at his now empty (and injured) hands, only to look up at the last second as a dark shape barreled towards him and sent him flying. The impact partially bashed him into Jason, sending Jason's chair tipping backwards. His head made yet another collision with the floor. Jason totally didn't lie there like a dazed, stuck turtle until he managed to finally free himself from his bonds.

He staggered to his feet, brushing away the arm that suddenly appeared to steady him.

"Hood. You okay?" that old familiar constipated growl asked.

"Just peachy. In fact I'll be going. Maybe I'll go run a marathon or something..."

"You're going nowhere."

"You going to arrest me? It was that twat who killed those men yesterday by the way. Arrest him."

"We need to assess your head injury."

"Pah. That's from yesterday. It's old news."

"Well, considering I just saw you bang your head, your eyes clearly aren't tracking properly, and you can barely stand, I think it's very current news. Let me take you back to the cave for a check-up. Or at least to Leslie's."

"How about you make sure that guy doesn't get away, and I _maybe_ go see Leslie?"

"The GCPD will deal with him. He's nice and secured. He won't be getting away before they arrive."

"You called the cops?"

"Yes. So shall we be leaving, before they arrive?"

"Hmph. Fine."

Batman hovered at Jason's side as they set off walking out of the building. He kept raising an arm like he wanted to put it round Jason's waist to support him, but Jason's body language was giving off clear 'don't touch me' vibes.

"So how did you find me anyway. Don't say it's coincidence."

"I tracked you."

"The dude said he was blocking my comms and my helmet."

"Yes he was. That's what made me suspicious."

"But then how did you find me?"

"...I stuck a tracker on you," Bruce reluctantly admitted.

"On that rooftop? Oh fuck you. I should have known."

"Wait, how come the tracker didn't go down too with his signal blocker?"

"It wasn't electric. It was a radioactive tracker."

"You stuck a _radioactive_ tracker on me!? That's even worse! Great, so I guess I probably have cancer now..."

"It's perfectly safe."

"I doubt that. Do you _know_ what radiation is?"

They reached a set of stairs. Apparently, _this_ creepy abandoned warehouse was underground (or had a basement at least). When Jason stumbled on the stairs, Bruce's hover-hands did reach out and grab his shoulder.

"Get the fuck off me," Jason shouted, pushing him away and trying to take a determined step to demonstrate he could manage just fine on his own. The problem was, apparently he couldn't. Maybe he misplaced a foot? All Jason knew, was suddenly he was flying backwards. His head crashed against the stairs and once-a-fucking-gain, it was lights out.


	6. Chapter 6

Once again Jason found his brain crawling back into consciousness with a splitting headache, and a sense he wasn't in his bed. It was beginning to become a pattern. At first he wasn't sure why he knew he wasn't in his bed; he was lying down, and on something softer than the ground. Maybe it was the uneasy feeling inside him. Part of his gut was screaming at him to run, to get away. But there was another part of his subconscious that was telling him he was safe, that was comfortable with the current situation. Jason extended his senses, already having a good idea where he was. Only one place could trigger such juxtapositionary feelings.

He could hear a heart monitor beeping away, almost certainly in time with his own pulse. It was still at a reasonably sedentary pace, though had sped up since he'd awoken. He took a breath to calm himself. All his skills he'd been practicing the past couple of days at feinting unconsciousness would be useless if his spiking heart rate gave him away.

Once he was happy that he had his pulse under control, he continued to analyse his environment. There was a faint smell of antiseptic, and below that, a familiar aroma of just slightly stale air. He couldn't hear much (aside from the heart monitor), but what he could, sounded to echo.

There was no doubt about it, he was in the damn Batcave.

Clearly Bruce had dragged his ass here after he antagonised him into braining himself on those stairs. _Great_.

Just as he was wondering what his chances of making a break for it without having to interact with any of the Bats, he heard the faint sound of voices. It sounded like they were coming down the stairs into the cave and heading over towards the computers. Jason couldn't really make our what they were saying (the medbay was at the other end of the cave), but he soon recognised that they belonged to Dick and Bruce. They sounded to be bickering. Not in the screaming-at-each-other,-someone's-about-to-storm-off way, but in the mildly-peeved-but-trying-to-keep-the-anger-out-of-their-voices way. Jason concentrated, trying to hear what they were saying, but couldn't manage.

"I don't wish to interrupt your pretence that you're not arguing..." a third voice suddenly announced, from a lot closer to Jason. It sounded like Dick tried to interrupt with a denial, only to earn a scoff in response before the voice continued, "but you are aware that Todd is awake?" _Fuck. Damn the little demon._

Jason thought that since he'd been called out, he might as well sit up, and save himself some indignity. That possibly backfired when he nearly tumbled back over again, but he managed to brace himself with his arms.

"Jason! You're awake!" Dick called, running over. He looked like he was considering trying to hug him until Jason steeled an angry glare at him.

"Clearly. Now, thanks for the hospitality, but I'll be going."

"You're not going anywhere," Bruce growled (but in his 'Bruce' growl, not his 'Batman' growl).

"You going to stop me?"

"If I have to, yes."  


Jason swung his legs off the side of the bed and tried to stand, stumbling slightly. Dick tried to push him back down on the bed, and levelled a glare at Bruce.

"You're in no state to be going anywhere," Bruce continued, clearly trying (but failing) to add some softness to his voice.

"I'm fine."

"You have a moderate-to-severe concussion, multiple contusions to the brain, and a hairline fracture of the skull. You are not fine."

"I've had worse." Bruce didn't reply, just glared. Jason sighed and sat back down on the bed, mainly to stop Dick from trying to force him onto it.

"So..." Jason started after a short while. "How long are you going to keep me here? I have things to do. Unless you're planning on handing me over to the GCPD or Arkham?"

"No. We know you didn't kill those men in that warehouse. The other guy confessed. The Red Hood wannabe"

"I don't suppose he confessed to any of the other crimes the Red Hood is wanted for, did he?"

"No."

"Pity. It would be nice if the GCPD wasn't after my ass. It's an inconvenient pain."

"It probably wouldn't be that hard to plant evidence on him," Replacement interjected, walking towards them. _How long has he been hovering and eavesdropping like a little weirdo?_ The kid earned one hell of a look of disapproval from Bruce. "Hey! I wasn't saying we _should_. I was just saying it's possible."

"No one is going to be falsifying evidence," Bruce insisted.

"No, you're just going to harbour a criminal/ keep one against his will."

Bruce was saved from replying (not that it seemed he was planning on doing anyway), by the arrival of Alfred.

"Ah, Master Jason, I see you're awake. How's your head?"

"Aching like a motherfu..."

"Language!" Alfred admonished. "And that should teach you to take better care of yourself in future. Just because you wear a helmet, doesn't mean you should go about trying to get head injuries."

"I wasn't trying to."

"Really? Then what do you call ignoring the head injury you already have, failing to seek medical attention, and continuing to go out and gain more head trauma?"

"...Bad luck?" Going by Alfred's frown, he wasn't buying that excuse.

"Let me take a look at you. Let's hope you've just knocked some self into you, and not done any lasting damage. And the rest of you, bed." The no-nonsense look on his face was so strong, that nobody argued, and the rest of them trudged away reluctantly towards the stairs. The fact he was capable of telling _Batman_ it was his bedtime showed just how much of a force of nature Alfred really was. Jason sighed, and got ready to suffer through whatever frustrating tests and associated lectures Alfred wished to spring on him. There was no fighting a man that powerful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we have it, the final chapter. I'm not sure this fic went exactly how I was intending when I started writing it. I think maybe I got a bit too carried away seeing how many head injuries I could give Jason in a single fic, but hey ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> I had a couple of other ideas for Bat-fam banter for the final chapter, but they didn't end up fitting in anywhere, and I felt it was long enough.


End file.
